


Fever

by Writing-The-Ghostbusters (writingfanfic)



Category: Ghostbusters (Movies 1984-1989), Ghostbusters - All Media Types
Genre: Adorable, F/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 18:36:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14920748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-The-Ghostbusters
Summary: For the prompts: 'Can I request a fic where Egon’s got the flu, and even though he’s feverish and very much Not In Working Condition, he keeps pushing himself until the reader has to talk him down and take care of him?' and 'A story where Egon falls sick and the guys have to go out on a job, so the female reader is left to take care of him. And while in the grips of a nasty fever Egon admits his feelings to the reader, only to not remember doing it once he gets better, so the reader is left wondering if he meant it or if it was just the delirium talking (but of course he meant it)!'Can do! Adorable sicky baby.





	Fever

“(Y/N), oh, thank god.”

“I came as quickly as I could… what’s-?”

Winston looks at you in concern, and you tilt your head.

“Winston, what’s wrong?”

“When is the last time you saw Egon? Did he stay at your place? I cannot believe I am asking this question about Egon, but…” You shake your head. “You haven’t seen him?”

“Not for two days, but he called me last night and sounded okay. A little tired, but… he sleeps for fourteen minutes a day.” Winston nods.

“He has… I am gonna say ‘the flu’. And I ain’t talkin’ little sniffles etc. Come with me. I need you to talk him down.” You raise an eyebrow, and Winston shrugs. “You two are… friends, right?”

“And you’re his landlord?” you ask, and he rolls his eyes.

“No, but Ray wouldn’t pick up his phone and some girl picked up Venkman’s so that’s… what, at least an hour?”

“Five minutes. Tops.” Winston grins, and you hi-five him before he guides you upstairs. “So what’s he been saying…?” Winston doesn’t answer, but instead clears his throat.

“Egon! It’s (Y/N)!”

The man at the other end of the lab, looking like a mad scientist with his hair wild, turns around, and you stop short.

His eyes are like black holes surrounded by a spider-web of red, and you can see the glands in his throat from here – you march in, picking around the boxes of records that Janine refuses to file and a disassembled muon trap on the floor, and stand next to him.

“(Y/N), thank god you’re here. I’ve made a breakthrough.”

“Have you, Egon,” you say gently, and touch his forehead – he swats at you, but you’ve already felt how hot it was. “I’m just going to take your temperature.”

“I think I can merge our world and the ghost world in a way that would potentially give all the ghosts a real and physical form, allowing us to interact with them on a completely unprecedented scale.”

“That’s nice, Egon. Why?”

He pauses, and you feel the back of his neck, before checking his glands gently.

“I’m not sure. Does science have to have a why?” he asks.

“Probably, to be ethical. Okay, you’re coming home with me.” He shakes his head, and you fold your arms. “Hypothesis. You are extremely ill and making poorly-judged choices. How do we test this? By touch I can tell you’re running a fever, and by feeling your glands – which are like  _oranges_ , by the way, you look like a hamster-” His hands fly to his neck, and you nod. “So I want to take you to your apartment, and run further tests.”

“…but I’m making a…” He gestures at the pile of metal on the desk, and you lean in, examining it. It appears to be a pile of junk.

“Ah. My hypothesis appears to be correct.”

“What?”

“Your soldering iron isn’t on.” You grab it by the wand, and he jerks it away from you – before looking at it, blinking. “Yeah, Egon. It’s not… you didn’t notice?”

“-(Y/N), I think I want to go back to my apartment.” His voice is so tiny and weak, and you nod, placing the soldering iron down and sliding your arm around him. As you pass Winston, you wink at him, and he nods.

“Thank you.”

* * *

“Okay. Drink this.”

Egon looks at the mug, and raises an eyebrow as you sit next to him on the bed.

“It’s tea – breakfast tea – with honey and lemon, and a good splash of whiskey.” He looks at you, deadpan. “I’m joking. I was going to add it, but then I remembered you’re teetotal.” He looks so sad and lost as he sips it that you just want to kiss his forehead, but you try to resist. He’s Egon. Who knows if he even feels that for anyone? “There isn’t even any in the flat.”

He mumbles something, and you gently stroke his head – at least that you can do.

“Poor thing,” you say, quietly, and glance around. This is the first time you’ve been in his apartment. You didn’t assume, if you were ever going to see his bedroom, this would be why, but… “We’ll get you back to endangering the world and borderline-supervillainy soon. Okay?”

“I’m glad it was you.”

You blink. That wasn’t an answer to what you said.

“I am. I am grateful that if anyone was going to look after me, it’s you.” He looks up at you, eyes even blearier without his glasses, and you stare at him. “I mean… I can blame this on the fever tomorrow… can’t I?”

You lean forward and kiss his forehead, and he shakes his head.

“Now if I get ill, you can look after me,” you say, smiling, and he nods.

“I mean… I have a more scientific approach than you do. But…” He reaches out, and takes your hand. “Thank you for rescuing me.”


End file.
